Silent Hill: Part 3 - Dead End

Silent Hill: Part 3 - Dead End

I quickly checked the gun's clip as I stood outside the café. Twelve bullets left. I was dismayed about not having more ammunition, but hardly ungrateful for what I had; the gun had saved my life. I tucked the gun away and unfolded the newly discovered map to decide where to go next. One thing I noticed right away was the big red circle someone had drawn on it. Looking closer, I realized that the place circled in red appeared to be right where I was standing. A glance at the sign above the café confirmed it.

"Café 5 to 2," I mumbled to myself.

Scanning the surrounding area on the map revealed that I was in Old Silent Hill, specifically, in the middle of Bachman Road. Tracing my index finger along the nearby streets, I saw what appeared to be a very narrow path that turned south off of Finney Street, the road a little north of where I was. The path appeared to come to a dead end a little more than halfway down the block. The first thing that came to mind was that the narrow street was an alley - maybe the same alley where I'd chased Cheryl before. I dreaded going back there again, but I had to satisfy my curiosity.

I guess I'll check that alley again.

Uncomfortable with the shadow-filled nooks and crannies between the buildings lining the road, I decided to walk in the middle of the street. That way, at least something approaching wouldn't be able to take me completely by surprise. My lonely footsteps sounded strangely muted in the fog-riddled environment, which for some reason seemed to enhance my feeling of isolation. I checked the radio as I walked, made sure the volume was all the way up and slipped it back into my pocket. The radio had been mercifully quiet since I left the café. Of course, I had no idea if that meant I was safe for the moment, or that I'd been wrong to rely on the radio to warn me of impending danger. I certainly hoped it was the former. As I approached the corner of Bachman and Finney, a sense of déjà vu came over me. I'd been here before. I crossed the intersection and could eventually make out vaguely familiar shops and storefronts. There was a set of stairs to my left, just past the intersection - the same place I last saw my little girl. My heart twisted at the thought of her, and I prayed that she was safe. Then, something else occurred to me.

If this is where I last saw Cheryl, then that means...

I jogged north a short distance on Bachman Road, passing up Finney Street. A few strides later, my suspicions were confirmed. Just barely visible through the fog, I caught a glimpse of crumpled red metal, the dull glint of glass and a tire bent at a decidedly awkward angle. It was my wrecked jeep. The crash had been real, but I still wasn't so sure about what had happened in the alley...or about those child-sized monsters. I steadied myself with a deep breath and started back toward Finney Street. I was approaching the intersection again when the radio’s gentle hissing suddenly grew louder, turning into a sharp crackle. Not too far away, I could hear the flapping of large wings--

--and I took off, full speed, around the corner and down Finney Street. A piercing screech came from above when I passed the set of stairs. I didn't know how close the Screamer was, but I knew it was coming. I could feel it bearing down on me. Suddenly, I was badly startled by the sound of huge, hungry jaws snapping shut a hair's breadth away from my right ear. Not wanting to waste more bullets, I snatched the knife out from my belt and slashed madly at the air behind me as I ran. I heard as much as felt the knife rip through something, which was followed by a shrill shriek of what I hoped was pain. I barely noted the dark, wet gore covering the knife as I flew down the street. Behind me, the creature screamed again. Adrenaline coursed through me, lending me speed.

Where's the alley?!

I almost overshot it - a little behind me and to my left was the mouth of the alley. I tore down the alleyway, barely seeing the garages flying by on either side. I'd nearly reached the gates at the end before I realized that the Screamer's terrible shrieks and the radio's hissing were quickly fading. I crashed through the set of gates, vaguely dismayed and disgusted that the gory remains I'd encountered before were still there. Feeling it was safe for the moment, I stopped just past the grisly carcass, desperately needing to catch my breath. I leaned over for a few seconds, taking in huge lungfuls of air--

CRASH!

I spun around with my heart in my throat and saw the gates rattling wildly. I caught a glimpse of something running back into the fog. It was then that I became aware of the radio's agitated hissing again. I must have been too busy trying to catch my breath to notice. I certainly wouldn't make that mistake again; it appeared that letting one’s guard down in this place was not a good idea. I crept cautiously toward the gates, straining to hear where the thing - whatever it was - had gone. Then I heard a frantic ticking sound, like claws or talons on pavement--

CRASH!

I stumbled backward, nearly jumping out of my skin when the creature threw itself into the gates again. I could see it more clearly this time as it clawed savagely at the gates - the strangely emaciated, yet muscular build, the sharp, oversized claws and teeth, the eyes white with cataracts. It looked like it once had a hairy hide, but now...

...It has spotty, discolored, mangy-looking skin. Just like the Screamers.

The disturbing realization then dawned on me that this vicious, snarling, monstrosity jumping at me on the other side of the gates was a dog. A slavering, snapping, mutant beast of a dog, but a dog nonetheless.

My God...how many of these monsters are there?!

Horrified, I slowly crept around the first corner of the back alley, ducking out of view so the dog couldn't see me. Mashing the material of my jacket over the radio's speaker to muffle the sound, I stood there perfectly still, trying not to breathe. The creature's deep, guttural barking wasn't like that of any dog I'd ever heard. It sounded like its throat was full of gravel and phlegm. Or blood, my mind chimed in. Its prey out of sight, the dog seemed to calm down somewhat after about a minute or two. I could hear it slowly pacing outside the gates.

Tic. Tic. Tic.

After what seemed like forever, its footsteps appeared to be moving away and the sharp crackle of the radio began to fade. Long seconds stretched by and nothing moved. A short while later, I was finally convinced that the creature had retreated. The radio was quiet again. Relieved, and yet trying to ignore a growing feeling of dread, I composed myself and continued on my way through the back alley.

It was the same as I remembered (Dreamed?) it: a twisting, turning maze that smelled faintly of rusted metal. I slowed down a bit as I neared the second set of gates, anticipating that same heavy, foreboding feeling...but it was gone. That oppressiveness just wasn't there anymore. No siren was wailing in the distance and the sky wasn't getting any darker, which was a good thing considering how jittery as I was. Even though I was armed this time, I didn't think I was ready for another encounter with the "demon babies."

I closed the gates behind me and turned around warily, taking in my environment. Nothing moved. Nothing changed or was changing. The radio was quiet, still hissing gently. For the moment, it seemed safe. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until I let out a sigh of relief. I still wasn't too keen on exploring this second part of the alley, but as always, the thought of Cheryl propelled me forward.

C'mon, Harry. You have to get it together if you're going to...find...

I stopped abruptly, the thought evaporating completely. I continued around the corner, gaping, staring incredulously at the path before me. About ten feet ahead, the alley was completely blocked. Standing before me was a nearly solid concrete and brick wall; "nearly solid" because of the good-sized hole smashed out of the bottom. Still, it might as well have been solid brick for all the good it did me. The hole was too small for me to fit through.

But it looks big enough for a child...

I got down on my knees to take a look through the small opening, when I caught a glimpse of something yellow sticking out of the hole, partly covered in shadow. Curious, I reached down and pulled it out - and my breath caught in my throat. I lightly ran my fingers over the bold black lettering on the front: "DRAWING BLOCK." My eyes traveled down to the whimsical scribbles of red crayon on the cover, and I nearly cried. It was Cheryl's sketchbook. I sat for a moment, remembering how happy she was when I gave it to her on her fifth birthday. With her brand new box of crayons, the very first thing she did was adorn the cover with a smiling, rather comical portrait of me.

"Look! It's you, Daddy!"

I shook away the achingly sweet memory and tried to refocus my thoughts. I bent down to look into the hole, and the only thing I could see was more of that God-forsaken fog. It was impossible to make out whatever was behind it. I began looking around the hole and in the dark corners, desperate to find another clue that she'd been here. Then I saw something, almost hidden by the small pile of concrete rubble. A single sheet of paper, apparently torn out of the sketchbook, lay half crumpled on the ground. I unfurled it, noting the large, child-like writing, and saw only two words written in red crayon: "to School." Was Cheryl trying to tell me she's at a school? I hurriedly pulled the map out of my pocket, quickly scanning the area--

--and there it was, plain as day: Midwich Elementary School, the only school on the map. There was no way I could be sure that she was really there, but I certainly intended to find out. Fortunately it wasn't very far - only a few blocks south, on the corner of Midwich and Bradbury. According to the map, I could get to Midwich Street by going west on Finney. Sounded easy enough. Stuffing both the page and the map into my pocket and the sketchbook into my jacket, I stood and turned to leave. I'd only taken one step when my foot kicked something against the wall, the object making a hollow, metallic sound as it bounced off the concrete. I bent down to see what it was, and discovered a rusty steel pipe. My first thought was to leave it, but my more practical self reminded me that I only had minimal protection besides the gun. Having another means of defense couldn't hurt, so I decided to take it along. New weapon in tow, I went back through the alley the way I came.

For obvious reasons, I hesitated when I got near the first set of gates again. I carefully peered around the first corner and saw that besides the stinking remains on the ground, nothing was there. I continued cautiously toward the exit, listening for any sign of movement, but there was none. I checked the radio and the volume was still turned up, but it also remained quiet. I opened the gates, cringing at the loud creaking sound they made as I pushed them, and still nothing came out of the fog. I was by no means relaxed, but I was mildly relieved.

I made it back to Finney Street without incident. Steel pipe at the ready, I turned west and started walking briskly down the road with a new sense of determination.

Hold on, sweetie. Daddy's coming.